


Oh My Lola (La-la-la-la-Lola)

by KibblerEars



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Car Sex, Clint Barton is the one person who can touch lola, Don't Touch Lola, Light breathplay, M/M, Not that he's complaining, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex in a Car, Sex on a Car, Sex with a Car, but he'll probably still get spanked for it, so i'd run away now if i were you, this entire thing features the defilement of precious lola, this is literal trash porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KibblerEars/pseuds/KibblerEars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So maybe Clint Barton sometimes watches subpar porn while Phil is away and maybe, sometimes, his mind wanders - because who really wants porn to jack off when you've had the Phil Coulson Experience <sup>TM</sup> - and maybe, sometimes, he comes up with what he calls <i>Clint Barton's Perfect Plans for Plenty of Orgasms</i><sup>TM</sup>. </p><p>And maybe this time he made a <i>calculated</i> error and left said plans right where Phil could see them when he got back. </p><p>Really, the spanking was going to be so worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh My Lola (La-la-la-la-Lola)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Lola by the Kinks 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry. I'm going to go drag myself and Clint Barton into a trash can now because that's where we belong for this. 
> 
> Beta'd by [schwartzkatz](schwartzkatz.tumblr.com) ! Thanks, bby! Any further mistakes are my own!

The Perfect Plan for Plenty of Orgasms TM. That’s what it was. 

Or, that’s what it had seemed like when he came up with the idea in the first place. 

And he’ll never admit that the perfect plan came to him while he was watching a rather...niche porn video. 

No one needs to know that he was idly jerking himself off to some subpar porn - and, honestly, was kind of getting bored - when he had the idea to surprise Phil when Phil came back from his mission away. (No one had told him that masturbation became kind of boring after you get used to having super-Agent-turned-super-Director Phil Coulson routinely getting you off in every manner imaginable, and then some.) 

The point was, when he thought of it, hard and bored in his bed, listening to some twink fake some moans, it was a perfect plan. 

Now, several weeks later, it honestly seemed like a _bloody brilliant_ plan. 

Clint may, however, be a bit biased, what with his mind already cloudy with an impending orgasm and his limbs loose with _needwantneedwant_. (And yes, that was part of _Operation Perfect Orgasms For Life Plan_ ). 

The orgasm was part of the beauty of the plan, really. Clint had spent several weeks doing recon, surveillance, and gathering intel under Phil’s nose with a level of secrecy that would either make Phil proud or make Phil realize just why it was a bad idea to leave Clint alone without adequate supervision. 

All thoughts of Phil and planning and Top Secret Personal Missions ™ fled Clint’s mind, though, as he straddled Lola’s gearshift, his cock already leaking at what was coming. His hole was slick and loose from the plug he had used to fuck himself open and he involuntarily clenched in anticipation when he felt the thick bulb of Lola’s gearshift brush against the wet entrance. God, he couldn’t wait for this. 

And he couldn’t _wait_ for Phil to find him like this.

If there was one thing the pair of them had learned Clint liked in bed, it was the feeling of being stretched open and stuffed full. And Lola’s gearstick? Had been a secret wet dream for him for ages. He had had dream after fantasy after orgasm about straddling Phil’s precious red car, while Phil watched, and bouncing up and down on the stick that he had repeatedly watched Phil’s hand so lovingly cradle whenever he drove or flew Lola. 

Shuddering, Clint drew in a deep breath, rocking against the smooth leather of the gearshift, hole fluttering and trying to draw it into his body. God, he was already so fucking close to coming and he didn’t even have Lola inside him yet. 

If things went to plan, though, Phil would be here soon and Clint wouldn’t be coming alone, a sobbing wreck of a mess in Phil’s car. If things went to plan, Phil would be here, talking dirty to Clint in that way only Phil could - quiet, calm, and so profoundly professional but absolutely _filthy_ at the same time - and making Clint crest that anticipated peak of orgasm with his voice alone. 

“Fu-fuck,” the expletive felt like it was punched out of his throat as he gave into gravity and sank down all the way onto the gearshift, his ass spreading wide in that glorious first stretch before his hole clenched so so tight around the thinnest part of the shift stick. He’s definitely had bigger in his ass before - like he said, he had a thing for being as full as possible - but there is something about this, about having _Phil’s car_ in his ass that makes it so much more...erotic and fulfilling than Clint ever imagined. 

Flames of need flickered along his spine as he rocked his hips, experimental and testing, and accidentally bumped the thick bulb of the gearshift against his prostate, dragging another low “fuck” from him. 

Phil better get here soon or he’d be missing the whole show. 

“You know, Barton, if you’re trying to surprise me, you shouldn’t leave your plans lying on my desk.” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Clint mused with a wry grin that quickly dissipated into a low groan as he rolled his hips once again just to feel that weight inside him. Twisting his head, he shot Phil a wry grin, “had to get you- _fuck_ \- down here somehow, didn’t I?” 

That drew a low laugh from Phil. “You could have just said you wanted to fuck Lola while I watched, you know.” 

“And risk,” Clint let his head tip back, showing off the elongated column of his neck as he lifted up on the gearstick and slowly, oh so slowly, slid back down, “having you bite me for wanting to defile your precious car?" Another low moan vibrated through his chest as his hips continued to rock in tiny little circles of their own accord. 

"You love it when I bite you," Phil growled, suddenly close enough to be able to reach over the driver's side door to wrap a hand around Clint's neck. His thumb and fingers squeezed tight, just right, applying just enough pressure to drag a breathy groan from Clint. Why did he ever let Phil in on how much he loved the threat of not being able to breathe; the giddy high that came when his throat was closed off and he just barely had enough air? 

Or, better yet, why did he wait so long to tell Phil in the first place? 

"I fail," Phil's lips were suddenly against Clint's ear, and his suit-covered body was hot against Clint's bent leg on the driver's seat, "to see how doing this without my consent is better than with it. Unless you're begging to be punished." 

Clint's eyes flew open - when had he even closed them? - just so he could shoot Phil a cheeky grin that wasn't at all ruined by the hoarse breathiness of his voice. "Because this way, you get to spank my ass as red as Lola before you fuck my loose hole while I'm bent over her hood." 

Phil's grip tightened - and the twitch around his eye told Clint the action was involuntary, and fuck, wasn't that hot? To know he could reduce Director Phil Motherfucking Coulson to little more than a mass of lust and want; to know he was the one who could seriously threatened the renowned control of Director Coulson? To know he was the only one who got to see Phil this way? 

In short, it was the hottest fucking thing Clint had ever seen, heard, or experienced. 

"If you're going to be a cheeky brat," Phil purred, nipping at Clint's earlobe as his hand cut off Clint's air supply, "then let's make it a game, baby. Let's see just how long you can be _good_ for me." 

Fuck, the way Phil said _good_ always made Clint want to drop to his knees and bury his face in Phil's crotch and not come up for air until Phil was satisfied for life. 

He didn't notice Phil's other hand moving - too wrapped up in the feel of Lola's gearshift in his ass and Phil's hand around his throat - until it was too late and the older man suddenly had Clint's cock in his hand, jerking it in short, teasing strokes that Phil totally knew wouldn't do anything for Clint but tease the fuck out of him until he was practically crying at Phil to let him come. 

Not that they'd tried that before or anything. Nope, not them. 

Okay, so they had. In Barcelona. 

Twice. 

But that was even more classified than Phil's status as Director. 

A shark twist of his nipple jerked Clint back to the present with a breathless whimper, which was followed by a louder whine when he realized there wasn't a hand on his throat anymore. He blinked up at his partner, who was smirking down at him with a knowing glint in his eyes. 

"Can't have you drifting off on me now, baby. Pay attention." 

It was way too early in the game - in his Plan - for Clint to be reduced to nothing but nonsense noise and sensation, but Phil always did know how to ruin - or enhance - Clint's best plans. 

One of Phil's hands rubbed idle circles up and down Clint's legs and Clint sucked in a shaky breath, barely finding the energy to blink as he looked at Phil; as he waited for Phil to tell him what to do. 

After what felt like an eternity, Phil smiled down at him, lighting up Clint's heart in ways that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with love, and gave Clint just one simple order. 

"Fuck yourself on Lola." 

It's like the air had been punched out of his gut and, for an agonizing moment, he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't do anything except stare at Phil. His cock was leaking against his stomach and Lola's gearshift was a comforting weight inside him, but Phil's words, his look, his smile, Phil held him captivated in this singular moment and he couldn't do anything at all. 

Then Phil bent, hand tightening on Clint's ankle as Phil sunk his teeth into Clint's shoulder, sucking a dark bruise that Clint would wear with pride as it faded. 

"Now, Clint, or you won't get the chance to come at all tonight." 

His hips began to move of their own accord once again, rocking back and forth on the gearshift, and rubbing the smooth leather grip just right against his prostate. 

He can hear Phil's breathing go a little bit ragged, but then Phil's hand is moving on his cock and Clint gives up making a witty remark in favor of letting out a choked moan. Phil could complain all he wanted, but Clint knew the Agent-turned-Director had practically jizzed his pants at the simple sight of Clint _literally riding_ Phil's prized car. 

Clint's head lolled back as Phil's work-rough hands jerked his cock just the way he liked, the nails of his other hand biting into the meat of Clint's thigh and giving him just the shadowy hint of pain he liked. "Fu-fuck, Phil," he groaned, rolling his head so he could press his forehead against Phil's shoulders. He's so close to the edge, but Phil hasn't given him permission. 

He lifted up on Lola, until the widest part of the gearshift is stretching him wide and dragging a hoarse whine from his throat. There may be tears in his eyes, but he can't be sure, all he knows is Phil's touch - rough and gentle all at once - and Lola's smooth, comforting weight in his ass. 

"Soon, pet, soon," Phil murmured into his ear, the damn tease, his hand twisting over the head of Clint's cock. The hand on his thigh nudged him, pushing him back down until Lola is deep inside him again. There's a non-stop keening noise echoing through the private garage and Clint is only vaguely aware that he's the one making the noise. 

" _Please,_ " he whimpered, mouthing at Phil's suit jacket, uncaring of the mess his saliva would make of it. 

Then he's jerking and twitching, overcome with a sudden jolt of _pleasureyesgoodyes_ coursing through him as Lola fucking roared to life under - and _in, holy shit, in_ him. Phil's laughter is a dim, faded noise in his ear - that gorgeous sadistic bastard, he fucking turned Lola on and, jesus fuck, why hadn't Clint thought to do that himself? 

"Sometimes you need a little...directing," Phil's voice filtered through the ringing in Clint's ears, teasingly answering the ramble Clint wasn't aware he was saying out loud, "you're doing so well, Clint, so close. Just a little longer." 

He fought back a desperate sob, sinking his teeth into Phil's shoulder through the suit jacket, trying to take the edge off - to not fall over that edge before Phil told him he was allowed. His hips jerked and he clenched hard around the gearshift, trying desperately not to come but the gentle vibration, the bulb of the stick, it was all _just right_. 

" _Please_ , Phil, I ne-," he cut off with another whimper, still muffled by Phil's suit jacket. His cock twitched in Phil's grip, and he couldn't hold it back anymore. Not with Lola purring under him, _inside him_ ,not with Phil's hand stroking his cock, thumb rubbing over the leaking head, Phil's hand slick with nothing but Clint's own precome. 

Phil hadn't told him to, not yet, but he just, he couldn't hold it back anymore, and he let out a loud cry as he jerked in place, body spasming as waves of pleasure roll over him in time with Lola's soft purring vibration. 

He's pretty sure he blacked out for a moment because when he next opened his eyes, Lola is off again. Phil is still kneeling on the driver's seat, but now he's peppering biting kisses over Clint's shoulder and murmuring soft words of encouragement and affection into Clint's skin. 

Clint can't seem to stop the little residual twitches throughout his body and he let out a quiet whine that now, in the clarity of post-orgasm, he'll forever deny to anyone but Phil. His thighs are burning from the awkward position he curled up in while riding Lola's gearshift, but he doesn't think he could move even if he wanted to. Especially not with Phil's hands gently massaging his left thigh and coaxing little blurry sensations of comfort and pleasure like that. 

"Back with me, little bird?" Phil's voice was low, his breath ghosting over Clint's ear, his hand on Clint's thigh, all of it just made Clint shiver anew, and he twisted his head to the side, trying to steal a kiss. 

Phil indulged him for a moment; his tongue curling around Clint's like a brand over ownership, his lips worshipping Clint's mouth like Clint is the most precious thing in the world. All of it made something ache deep inside Clint and he pressed impossibly closer to Phil, seeking silent and physical reassurance that Phil was there, with him, was going to look after him, and stay with him. One shaky hand gripped Phil's shoulder, wrinkling his shirt and clinging to Phil even as Phil continued to devour Clint's mouth. 

Eventually, though, Phil pulled away, that wicked smirk that only Clint ever got to see decorating his handsome face. One of his hands came up to cup Clint's jaw, thumb stroking away a tear Clint hadn't realized he shed, as he murmured, "I didn't tell you you could come." 

Phil's voice was rough with arousal, and something dark and hungry was lurking in his eyes. Clint swallowed hard, renewed need dancing through his veins at the promise in Phil's touch and gaze. He shifted on Lola, fighting back a groan as his spent cock valiantly tried to rejoin the game. 

"And I believe you mentioned something about me spanking you over Lola's hood," Phil continued, thoughtful, "that does seem like a good punishment. We could see just how many swats it takes for your ass to match her paint." 

As he spoke, Phil was climbing out of the car and walking around to the hood, his fingers bouncing over Lola's shiny surface. He met clint's gaze through the windshield, watching with that same damn smirk as he reached up to undo his tie, letting it drop to the floor before he began to roll up his shirt sleeves. All while Clint watched, Lola deep in his ass, and his thighs burning with the need to move, and his cum splattered all over his stomach. 

Phil quirked an eyebrow, one hand raising just enough to beckon Clint to come over, that low voice ordering, "come here, Clint. Now." 

And Clint...Clint was moving without really realizing it. He was sliding up off Lola's gearshift and crawling out of the car, landing on his hands and knees on the floor. Not bothering to get to his feet, Clint crawled around to meet Phil at the front of Lola. His hole was so empty without Lola in it, but Phil, Phil would take care of him, he knew that, all he had to do was get to Phil. 

As soon as he was close, Clint nuzzled his head along Phil's thigh, hiding a quiet whine in the soft fabric of Phil's suit pants, and squeezing his eyes shut when he felt Phil's hand card through his hair, gentle and soft. 

"Fancy meeting you here, little bird," Phil murmured, nails scratching over Clint's skull just hard enough to make Clint purr in approval and melt against Clint's leg. Clint tilted his head to grin up at Phil, who returned the grin with a side of sly wink, before coaxing Clint up to his feet and into another possessive, toe-curling kiss. 

But well before Clint has had his fill of kissing Phil, Phil is backing away and spinning Clint around to pin him down against the hood of the car. They both know Clint could break away if he really wanted to, but that was half the thrill - that Clint would _let_ Phil do this because Clint wanted it just as much as Phil. 

Pressing one hand down against Clint's back, Phil's other hand slid down to tease Clint's open, slick hole, dragging a ragged groan from Clint, who arched up into Phil, pressing almost desperately back to try and get more of those glorious fingers _inside_ him. 

"Let the real games begin," Phil purred before he let not one, not two, but three of his fingers slid into Clint. At the same time, his hand left Clint's back and came down hard on Clint's ass. 

And Clint? 

Well, he's not entirely sure what happened next. All he knew is he had never seen so many stars in his life. 

His post-mission debrief - if he bothered to write one after Phil was finished with him - simply read: "Thanks to Lola, the best car any archer could ask a partner to have, _Clint Barton's Perfect Plans for Plenty of Orgasms_ TM was a complete success." 

(As for Lola, she can safely say she's never had a man look so gorgeous while riding her. And she can't wait for him to do it again.)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much appreciated inspiration! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
